Draco's Decision
by Bexiekun
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts is raging, and Malfoy has a choice to make. Does he fight for Voldemort, and risk going back to living in fear, or does he finally grow a backbone and take a stand? The choice he makes could cost him his life... or save it.
1. Chapter 1

**WOW, this turned out a lot longer than I planned! I hope it doesn't get too rambly.  
>I always hoped Malfoy would have some kind of redemption in the final book. Back before it came out, I had a theory that maybe something would happen to make him realise how disillusioned he had been, like maybe Voldie killing off his parents, and this would make him rethink his choices. Obviously, I was disappointed, but there was a little hint of a change of heart, what with him not identifying Harry at Malfoy Manor. You could tell he hated Voldiepants. He was just too scared to actually oppose him.<strong>

**Anyway, this is basically what I **_**wanted**_** to happen. And you know Malfoy's in the castle all the way through the battle, he had to have done **_**something**_**, and this is my take on it. :)**

* * *

><p>I slammed down against the floor, coughing harshly, Potter toppling off the broom just behind me. I blinked rapidly, my smoke-stung eyes watering, looking around. Potter, Weasley, Granger, Goyle...<p>

"C-Crabbe..." I choked out, my throat still feeling harsh from the smoke. "C-Crabbe..."

"He's dead." Weasley said shortly. I said nothing. I wasn't entirely sure what I felt. Crabbe and Goyle had been my only... what? Friends? Or was "cronies" a better term? Crabbe had certainly made it clear, just before all this happened, that he didn't much care for me now that my father has lost his influence. Not friends, then. But I had still spent practically every day with them both for the last seven years, and we had laughed and joked and plotted together. It seemed... unreal, that Crabbe was gone.

It suddenly struck me that I didn't actually have any real friends. I never have done. Not like Potter, who has Weasley and Granger with him all the time, ready to fight with him and protect him.

Wait, am I actually feeling jealous of Potter? No way. Never.  
>Dimly I hear Granger asking Potter something about his arm. I look up, and see Potter holding up that diadem he had been trying to get – he had been so determined to get his hands on it, the idiot risked both our necks swerving back into that fire to catch it. As I watch, the thing seems to melt in Potter's hands, and something leaking from it, and then – I'm not sure if this was real or if it was my imagination – I'm sure I hear a kind of scream coming from it.<p>

The three of them stare at each other, their expressions being a strange mix of surprise and... elation? They start to talk amongst themselves, completely ignoring me, still sprawled on the floor. Charming.

"But don't you realise?" Granger was saying. "This means, if we can just get the snake-"

Snake? What snake? I open my mouth to ask them what on earth they're blabbering on about, and why that stupid trinket was so important, but before I can say anything, the whole castle seems like its shaking. Shouts and the haze of spells begin to fill the air, and looking round, I see some Death Eaters – impossible to tell who, as they all have their masks on – duelling with two other Weasleys. Still completely ignoring me, Potter runs forwards, drawing his wand (_'No, that's __my __wand!' _I remember angrily), his two friends following him. I, on the other hand, decide that it's probably best I take my leave. I had lost my mother's wand in the Room of Hidden Things, and so had no way of defending myself.

I turn around, eyeing Goyle, who is still unconscious on the floor. I prod him a few times, but he doesn't stir. I try grabbing him under his arms, to try and haul him out of the way, but he's far too heavy – both he and Crabbe have always been much bigger than me. But I don't feel right, just leaving him there, so I carry on until I manage to drag him a small distance away, shoving him towards a small alcove. It'll have to do. I straighten up, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand, when suddenly I'm knocked off my feet by some kind of explosion. My head whipping around, I see that part of the wall on the other side of the corridor has been blown apart, and Potter is pulling himself out of the rubble. I find my feet taking me closer towards them, but I stop when I hear a terrible, grief-stricken scream. Two of the Weasleys are kneeling over the third – one of the twins – who is lying on the floor.

It's a few seconds before I realise that he was dead.

Potter and Granger start towards them as more sounds of battle grow closer. The bangs and shouts bring me back to my senses, and I remember that I am unarmed. Turning, I begin to run down the corridor. I need to try and find somewhere safe.

As I run down a staircase, I realise that there probably isn't anywhere safe. The battle down here is much fiercer than upstairs, and all I can do is keep running, doing my best to dodge out of the way of the fighters and stray spells. After a while I finally find a relatively quiet area, free of fighting, and I slump against a wall, gasping for breath.

Well, what a fine mess I've gotten myself into. Here I am, stuck in the middle of a war, with no one to protect me and no way of protecting myself. And it's not as if I can just leave the castle – glances out of nearby windows told me that the grounds were full of giants and acromantula. I am well and truly stuck.

I jump as spells begin to fly past my head – the battle has come to this corridor as well. I start down another staircase, but a hand grabs my arm, roughly pulling me back. I turn to find a masked Death Eater pointing his wand into my face, and I shake my head wildly.

"No- I'm Draco Malfoy, I'm Draco, I'm on your side!" But my words don't seem to have an effect, and as the Death Eater readies a spell, I screw my eyes shut.

Suddenly his grip on my arm is gone, and I look up to see him blasted back by a Stunning spell. I grin widely and turn around, to see who had saved me, but I saw no-one. Suddenly I fell backwards, clutching at my jaw, my mouth bleeding. Did... did someone just punch me?

"And that's the second time we've saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!" yelled an unseen voice.

... _Weasley?_

Feeling slightly dazed, I grab the fallen Death Eater's wand and scramble into an alcove, out of the way of the battle. What do I _do_? I can't just sit here hiding. I'm a sitting duck. But at the same time, I can't bring myself to join the fight. I'll admit, I'm scared. Bravery has never been my forte. Oh, I talk big, but I usually make sure I have someone else, like Crabbe and Goyle, there to back up my big words for me. I'm useless on my own.

Not only that, but I don't know _who_ to fight for.

I hate the Dark Lord. I despise him. I hate what he's done to me and my family. I hate the fact that he's staying in our manor – the thought that he's there, just downstairs... most of the time, I'm too scared to sleep. Seeing all the things he's done... I can't believe that I once used to _dream_ of working for him. It seems impossible that just under two years ago, after I was branded with the Dark Mark, I was actually bragging about it. I was proud. But now, after having witnessed what he's truly like with my own eyes – seeing him kill and torture people, and making me do it, too – I want no part of it.

It all seemed like... like a game, when I was younger. It was easy, to talk about Mudbloods, and go strutting about with my sense of superiority, drummed into me by my father all my life. I grew up learning that pure bloods were the true wizards, that the Mudbloods were unworthy to even lick our shoes, that Muggles were stupid and backward, and that the Dark Lord had been trying to restore the natural order.

I started to realise a long time ago that this was wrong. I first started to lose my nerve when I was ordered to kill Dumbledore. Yes, I hated the man, for being a Mudblood lover, and my father constantly claimed that he was the worst thing ever to happen to Hogwarts. But I didn't want to kill him. I had no choice, though – what else could I do when my family's lives depended on me succeeding? But every time one of my plans went wrong – first with the Bell girl, and then with Weasley, of all people – I panicked. I didn't _want_ to hurt anybody. No, not even Weasley, blood traitor that he is. I was in over my head. This wasn't just bragging. This was real.

And then, the things I've seen since the Dark Lord came out into the open. Mudbloods rounded up, imprisoned, killed. Begging for mercy. Being forced to come along when Aunt Bellatrix and some of the others went out Muggle killing, just for _fun._ Torturing and killing them. Even children. And not just with Avada Kedavra, no, often they found more _prolonged _ways of doing it.  
>They made me do it, too, although I never actually killed anyone. I couldn't. The others would just sneer at me and call me gutless, before doing it themselves.<br>The Muggles... how different are they from us, really? I'm not turning into a Muggle lover, not by a long shot. But I'd always been taught that they were somehow... less than human. Stupid and dirty. And I believed it. But then, when I saw them there, in their houses, trying to protect their children, they had the same fear on their faces as wizards do. They are human. They may not have magic, but they're still _people._

I can't believe I used to think it would be great if the Dark Lord came back. I was so stupid. I've fantasized a few times about just leaving. I could go on the run. I could stay in a tent like Potter, Weasley and Granger. But I'm too afraid. If I run, he'll kill my parents, and if he ever found me, he'd kill me, too. I'd have to spend my whole life running. I used to tell myself that if I just kept doing as I was told, if I could just keep my head down, things would get better. But they haven't, they're just getting worse.  
>I rest my head in my hands, sighing. No, it would be foolish to go against the Dark Lord. It would be suicide. There's no point in trying to fight, no-one can beat him.<p>

But... was that really true?

Potter seemed to be making a go of it. The Dark Lord's been obsessed with finding him, killing him. Why? He's just a boy, like me. He'd never have a chance, he's hardly a threat. What is it about Potter that infuriates him so much? And what's Potter been doing all these months? He can't have just been hiding, that's not Potter's style. He likes to swoop in and save the day, so he must have been doing _something_. Why was the Dark Lord so angry about him stealing a cup from Gringotts? Why the hell was that diadem so important?  
>Are these things... keys to defeating the Dark Lord?<p>

I run my hands down my face, eyes wide. No, it was impossible. How could these things have any impact on defeating him?  
>But... if they'd make no difference... why's Potter so bent on finding them? No – they <em>had<em> to be important! Maybe they really _are_ the tools to defeat the Dark Lord! Why else would he risk dying to catch that damn diadem? And what was it Granger said...?

"_If we can just get the snake..."_

Did that mean that the final key to defeating him... is the snake? Have they removed all the other obstacles?

I don't understand how these things could possibly help, but there's no other explanation. Somehow, acquiring or destroying these things will make the Dark Lord vulnerable. Does that mean he could even be defeated... tonight?

A loud bang and a scream startles me out of my thoughts, and I remember I'm sitting in the middle of a war. I can't just stay here. I have to make a choice.

Running is out. There's no point, there's nowhere to run to. I have two options. I can either join the Death Eaters... or the people fighting them. If I join the Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord wins (which he probably will) I'll go back to my life of cowering in the shadows, and being terrified all the time. If I join the others, and the Dark Lord wins, I and my family will be killed for my betrayal. But if the Dark Lord _does _lose... if Potter _has_ found a way...

I'll be free.

I stare down at the wand clutched tightly in my shaking hand, trying to reach a decision. Neither choice sounded too good right now. But I know one thing. I'm tired. Tired of living in fear. Tired of everything. And I don't want to spend the rest of my life running, constantly looking over my shoulder. I just want my life to go back to how it used to be. And there only seems to be one way that will happen.

Taking a deep breath, I leave my hiding place, ducking as a jet of green light soared over my head, and looked around. There were many students fighting, and I recognised one – Thomas, I think his name was, a Gryffindor – duelling furiously with a Death Eater... and winning. A Mudblood, who I'd always been taught were weak and unworthy, was both braver than me... and probably more skilled. He was certainly more skilled than this pure-blood Death Eater, anyway. I raised my wand, pointing it towards them.

"_Stupefy!" _I shouted, and the Death Eater Thomas had been fighting flew backwards before smashing into a wall.

"Draco!" yelled another Death Eater, and from the voice, I recognised him as Avery. "What the hell d'you think you're doing?"

I didn't reply, but instead sent a Body-Bind curse at him. He toppled over, rigid, eyes glaring at me through his mask.

"_You_?" I turn around, and Thomas is regarding me with suspicion. "What did you do that for? Aren't you on their side?" I shrugged.

"I... was."

"But you're not now?"

"I suppose after that... no, I'm not." I realise I'm shaking. A large part of me can't believe what I just did, and a voice in my head is screaming that I'm an idiot, and that I've doomed my whole family. I try to block it out – can't really turn back now.

"I don't trust him, Dean." said another voice. Thomas' friend – I forget his name, the Irish one – stood beside him. "This could all be a trick, you know he and his family are right in with You-Know-Who!"

"I dunno, Seamus. Attacking your own people sounds like a risky move to pull, just to get one over on us."

"Yeah, but-" He never finished that sentence, because just then another group of Death Eaters rounded the corner, and spotting us, immediately began firing curses in our direction. I raised my wand again and responded with everything I could.

Dimly I realised how absurd this was – I was fighting against my own side, standing back to back with a _Mudblood_, of all people. But I found I didn't much care. Only one thought was circulating round my head.

'_I want to be free.'_

* * *

><p>The battle was over, for now. The Dark Lord had given the castle one hour to turn over Potter. They'd never do it, I knew. It was only a matter of time before the fighting started up again, and I was dreading it.<br>I sat on my own, in a corner of the Great Hall, trying to avoid making contact with anybody. A few people had done a double take when they saw me, or regarded me with suspicion. It was common knowledge that I was supposed to be on the other side, but no one challenged me. They were too busy tending to the wounded and recovering the dead.

Seeing the dead again made me realise how stupid this all was, how stupid I had been. While my opinion had changed slightly, I still didn't like Mudbloods or Muggles, but this... this was just pointless. I'd seen so many people die recently. And for what?

Suddenly, a voice reverberated around the castle, and everyone jumped. It was him.

"_Harry Potter is dead," he said, his voice shaking dust from the ceiling. "He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself..."_

_Bullshit_, I thought, as the people around me began to whisper frantically among themselves and cry out. Potter wouldn't run away. He was too goddamn noble for that. The idiot probably went and handed himself over.  
>But if he was dead... he'd failed to defeat the Dark Lord.<p>

Oh crap, I picked the wrong side. I start to panic.

"_We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone."_

People began to stand, huddling together, slowly making their way towards the doors. I remained motionless for a while, my pulse pounding in my ears. Oh God, I'm dead. He's going to kill me. There's no way I can talk my way out of this.

I hear people assuring each other that it can't be true, it's probably just a ruse, Potter would never desert them. I find myself standing, following the crowd out into the entrance hall, out through the main doors into the grounds. I keep my head down, trying to keep out of sight. If he sees me... I'm dead.

I hear people start to scream Potter's name. So it is true. He is dead. I stand on my toes, trying to catch a quick glimpse before ducking out of sight again.  
>That damn snake is still there. Granger had said they needed the snake. So Potter gets himself killed, and couldn't even get that damn oversized worm? That would mean, if what I guessed is right, that the Dark Lord still can't be beaten. Potter failed. I made the wrong choice.<p>

I barely pay attention to what's happening now. The ground seems to be spinning under my feet. All I can think of is how I'll be killed before the night's out. Probably tortured, too. I start to shake. No, maybe I can still find a way out –

I blink as a disturbance at the front of the crowd gets my attention. Someone is actually challenging the Dark Lord?

"I'll join you when hell freezes over!"

That voice...  
><em>Longbottom? <em>Longbottom is taking a stand? The little idiot is more stupid than I thought. I peer over the heads of the crowd again. The Dark Lord was saying something else, putting something on Longbottom's head.

"Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me." And suddenly, Longbottom was on fire. I wince. Not a nice way to go. Moron should have kept his mouth shut. It's over, anyone can see that.

Then suddenly, a huge roar rose up in the distance. More people were coming, and it was obvious they were ready to fight. Giants were suddenly fighting each other. And were those _centaurs_?

Everyone began to surge forth, drawing their wands again. And in the middle of it all, I caught another glimpse of Longbottom, no longer on fire, and _how the hell did he get that sword_? But a split second later, that didn't matter – he'd killed the snake with it. The snake. Granger had said it was the last thing.

Did that mean... there was hope? Could he still be beaten? I drew my own wand, being shunted left and right. I may as well keep fighting. I'll probably be dead either way. I had no choice but to move with the crowd anyway, being forced back into the Great Hall, where utter madness ensued.

There were too many people. Too many curses flying everywhere. I could barely fight at all, I was too busy trying not to get hit. What the heck, even _house elves_ were fighting, stabbing Death Eaters in the legs with kitchen knives. This was insane! A total death trap!

Suddenly, over the noise of the battle, I hear someone screaming my name. I turn round to see my mother and father shoving their way through the crowd towards me, and I almost want to cry with relief. They were alive!

"Draco!" sobbed my mother, draping herself across me. "Draco, darling! Thank goodness you're alright!"

"Quickly, Narcissa!" said my father, who looked even worse than when I saw him last. He still didn't have a wand. "We must leave here, quickly, while everyone is distracted. We can slip away, leave the country. No-one will see. But we must go now!"

My mother nodded, pulling me by my arm. "Come, Draco! We must run. This is our chance to escape, quickly, before he sees-"

"And then what?" I found myself saying. "We run for the rest of our lives?" My mother blinked at me, confused.

"What? Draco, darling, you can't possibly want to stay _here, _he'll kill us all once this is over, he'll know I lied to him soon, we must leave now!"

I didn't stop to think on my mother's words. "No, I don't want to stay here, but I don't want to run forever either! I'm sick of cowering in the shadows, Mother!"

"But Draco-"

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!" yelled a voice. Everyone nearby fell silent as someone shoved them out of the way, and after a few seconds, I saw who it was – Weasley's fat mother, squaring up to Aunt Bellatrix. Most people weren't fighting anymore, instead standing in a wide circle, all around the walls, watching the Weasley woman fight Bellatrix, and the Dark Lord fighting three teachers.

Suddenly, and I didn't even see how it happened, Aunt Bellatrix was falling to the ground. She was dead, killed by Weasley's mother. My own mother gave a small sob.

"Bella..!" she murmured, hand covering her mouth.

"She was an evil bitch and deserved what she got." Again, my mouth seemed to be acting without permission. My mother looked at me aghast, but it was true. I had seen Aunt Bellatrix do terrible things, things that made bile rise in my throat. I had begun to hate her almost as much as I hated _him_.

Speaking of him, I hadn't seen him quite this angry in a long time. The Weasley woman was as good as dead. He pointed his wand at her, but nothing happened, and then, incredibly, Potter appeared. I couldn't believe it. He was supposed to be dead! My mother, however, looked totally unsurprised by Potter's appearance, and began tugging on my arm more forcefully as he began his challenge.

"Please, Draco, we must go now, he'll be furious with me, I lied to him, I just wanted to find you," she babbled. "Quickly, now, while everyone is watching them!"

"No!" I said, resisting, although a large part of me was screaming to take the opportunity and run. "Don't you see, he could beat him! Potter could win! Then we could-"

"Don't be absurd, Draco!" said my father. "The boy will die, and we will follow him ourselves unless we _get out of here!"_

"But... but what if he does?" I turned to my mother. "And what do you mean, you lied to him?"

My mother looked terrified. "He... he asked me to check if the Potter boy was dead." She stammered. "I knew he was alive, but he told me you were still in the castle, so I lied so we could come and find you-"

"It doesn't matter now!" my father cut in. "All that matters is that we flee, _now_!"

While I argued with my parents, Potter and the Dark Lord were discussing something called the Elder Wand. And then I heard something that made my head whip round, and my mother and father froze.

"The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy."

What was this? I was the master of some special wand? That couldn't be right.

"But what does it matter?" the Dark Lord was saying, as my parents looked at me wide-eyed.

"... and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy."

My mother gave a moan of fear and redoubled her efforts to drag me away. Maybe it was best that we leave... if I was supposedly the master of something _he_ wanted, I really did need to leg it.

"But you're too late," replied Potter, and I stopped to look at them again. "I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him." And sure enough, I saw that it was my own hawthorn wand that Potter was pointing at the Dark Lord. Did that mean... I was safe?

"... I am the true master of the Elder Wand." Potter finished.

And suddenly they were both shouting at the same time, two beams of light erupting from both of their wands, and then... I'm not even sure how it happened, but... he was on the ground. Potter had won. The Dark Lord was dead. Then a solid wall of noise – people were screaming and cheering and surging forth towards Potter, and my parents and I were shunted along, my father mouthing silently in shock, my mother crying harder than ever and holding me as tightly as she could. I wasn't sure what I was feeling. All I knew was that it was over. I was finally free.

Tears of relief came as I gripped onto my mother. We were free.

* * *

><p>The rest of the day seemed to pass by in a blur. We weren't sure what to do, so we huddled together on the end of one of the tables that had re-appeared for the celebration. My father sat rigidly, still unable to take in what had happened, and my mother refused to let me go. Later in the afternoon, however, an Auror appeared behind us, his face stony.<p>

"Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy?" We turned, regarding him worriedly.

"I am arresting you on suspicion of being Death Eaters and supporting He Who Must Not Be Named during his time in power," he said. "You will be escorted to Azkaban where you will await trial by the Wizengamot."

I sagged, and my mother began to sob again. But if I'm honest, I far preferred Azkaban to living with the Dark Lord, and it wouldn't be so bad now – I doubted they would still have Dementors guarding the place after everything that happened. But it still stung to have my freedom taken away again so soon.

"No!" a voice called out, and to my astonishment, there was Potter. He looked exhausted, but he was making his way over to the Auror, shaking his head. "No, you don't have to do that."

"Mr. Potter!" the Auror said, looking at him with something akin to awe. "I'm sorry, but it's well known that the Malfoys were supporters of He Who Must Not-"

Potter cut him off. "No, you don't understand. He," he pointed at me, and I blinked, "switched sides and was fighting for us during the battle, and she," he now pointed to my mother, "lied to Voldemort, and told him I was dead when I wasn't, putting herself in danger. If it wasn't for her, I would definitely be dead right now."

"Be that as it may, I-"

"They switched sides." Potter continued loudly. "If it wasn't for them, Voldemort would probably still be here. You can't arrest them."

The Auror regarded him for a few moments, before speaking again.

"There will have to be an investigation-"

"Fine."

"But if what you say is true-"

"Which it is."

"Then they will likely be spared imprisonment." He turned to us again. "You are free to go... for now." By the look on his face, he wasn't happy about it. "But you will need to be questioned during the investigation. You shall receive a summons to the Ministry of Magic when you are needed." He then nodded to Potter, turned on his heel, and left. I gaped after him, hardly believing my luck. Potter remained, standing in front of us somewhat awkwardly.

"... How did you know I was fighting?" I said, mainly to break the silence.

"Dean and Seamus told me, up in Gryffindor Tower. Bit of a sudden change from trying to kill me in the Room of Requirement."

"I wasn't trying to _kill_ you-"

"Then what was that mad fire about?"

"That was Crabbe, he was insane, you can't blame me for that."

"So what changed you mind?"

I said nothing, only shrugged. I wasn't about to go pouring my heart out to _Potter_. No way. He may have saved us all, and stopped my family from being thrown in prison, but that didn't mean I had to like him. He regarded me for a moment before reaching a hand into his pocket.

"Anyway, the reason I came down was to give you this." And to my surprise he held out my hawthorn wand. I reached up to take it, and when I did, I felt a warmth rushing up my hand. I had missed my wand. It suddenly hit me that _my_ wand had killed the Dark Lord. My hand shook slightly around it. "I got my old wand back, so I don't need that one anymore." Potter continued. "Thought I should give it back."

"Thanks... I suppose." Potter thrust his hands into his pockets, shuffling his feet. This was still pretty awkward.

"Right, well, that was all really, I'm going to go and... get some more sleep. Thanks, by the way," he said, addressing my mother, who looked startled. "I... guess I owe you my life. I hope keeping you out of Azkaban goes some way to repaying that." A few more seconds of silence, and then he nodded to us stiffly before heading towards the Entrance Hall. We stared after him, feeling slightly bewildered.

I'm not ever going to like Harry Potter. Not even after all this. There's too much bad blood between us. But I supposed I could at least be civil to him from now on, if our paths ever crossed. Maybe we could just be on Christmas card terms, or something. I had a sudden image of Potter opening a card that said "Seasons Greetings from the Malfoys" on it.

No, on second thought, even that would be too weird. I'll stick to just not insulting him whenever I see him.  
>Or maybe I could send him a Christmas card, but put a hex in it to... to make his skin turn blue, or something. Yeah. That could be amusing.<p>

And maybe I could tone down the Mudblood stuff a little. Just a little.

"Draco, darling, you should eat something." My mother whispered. "And then maybe we can finally go home."

Home. That sounded good. Home, finally free of the Dark Lord and Death Eaters and that horrible snake.  
>That sounded very good indeed.<p>

**End**

* * *

><p><strong>Like I said, much longer than expected. I hope I kept Malfoy in character... I wasn't trying to make him suddenly become all brave and heroic, but to have a serious think and decide fighting was the only option, and the best choice he had to save himself which is what Malfoy is best at. xD<strong>

**I'm pretty sure I read somewhere that JK said that harry intervened to stop the Malfoys (or at least Draco) from going to Azkaban. Even if I'm mistaken, it sounds like something he would do, especially as Narcissa saved his life – he knew from what Dumbledore said about Wormtail that saving someone's life creates a kind of bond (I forget the exact words used, but it's not something Harry would ignore).**

**Also, if the last parts get a bit weird, I wrote those bits whilst very tired at 3-5am. So, apologies if it gets a bit weird.**

**Oh, and I just HAD to keep Mrs. Weasley's line in there. :P  
><strong>

**I hope you enjoyed, and please review, or I'll crucio you. :D **


	2. Nineteen Years Later

**I debated for a while about adding anything more to this. I'm still not sure about it, but I wrote this anyway and kinda liked it, so I figured I may as well add it as a kind of epilogue.  
>Again, I hope Malfoy isn't OOC. I thought it would make sense that he would change his opinions somewhat after what he went through.<strong>

* * *

><p>I smiled slightly as I looked around the platform, the train's smoke casting a thick fog, obscuring my surroundings, and listened to the hooting of owls and the mewling of cats. I'm quite sure I even heard the odd croak of a toad, and the sound reminded me of Longbottom. Apparently he was a teacher at Hogwarts now. How that little idiot ever managed to become one is beyond me. As I cast my gaze around, I notice three people staring at me.<p>

Potter, Weasley, and Granger. Well, I supposed, it was Potter, Weasley and Weasley now. Their children were clustered around them.

I give them a stiff nod, and they return it, Potter with a small smile. I glared at him for a moment, and then turn away to my own family.

My son stands before me, his hand clutching the handle of his trunk. He looks slightly apprehensive. My wife notices an old acquaintance, and moves away to say hello. As she leaves, I bend down to speak to my son.

"Remember, Scorpius," I said. "You are a pure-blood, and that is something to be proud of. I expect you to carry yourself with the pride and dignity that the Malfoy name carries." He gives a small nod, but before he can say anything, I continue. "But also remember that while your pure blood is a source of pride, it does not automatically entitle you to any special treatment, or that you will be more naturally gifted that those who come from... other families. You must expect to work hard to attain what you deserve. While I was at school, I was often enraged that a Mud... Muggle-born was both more intelligent and skilled than I." Despite my best efforts, it was still difficult to talk about Muggle-borns without the slurs. I supposed it came with a lifetime of indoctrination. "I realised a long time later that it was wrong to feel that way. Our blood may be pure, but that doesn't make anyone else any... less of a wizard. Do you understand?"

I waited a few seconds, and then Scorpius nodded again. I exhale a breath I didn't realise I had been holding. "Good boy." I said, straightening up as my wife returned to hug our son. "You had best get on, or it will leave without you." I gripped his shoulder briefly but tightly, and nodded to him as he turned and boarded the train. My wife sniffled slightly beside me as she waved. No doubt she was already planning what treats to put in the package she'd probably send by owl as soon as we returned home.

It was important to me to impress upon my son that blood status, while still important, wasn't everything. I had grown up thinking that my blood entitled me to anything I liked, that Muggle-borns were inferior, and look where it had got me.

I didn't want that for my son.

Oh, I wasn't out campaigning for Muggle rights. I'd eat my wand before I ever did that. But on that night, nineteen years ago, I had a realisation – and it had taken some time, but I had eventually accepted the fact that my blood didn't make me a better wizard, or a better man.

My father didn't approve. It did surprise me that he still clung to all his old beliefs, even after all the horror it put us through, but in the end I put that down to him being older and more set in his ways. I had been younger. A little more... flexible, perhaps.

Being a pure-blood was something to hold your head high about. But holding your head high didn't mean you had to look down your nose at everyone else, either. It was still difficult for me to grasp sometimes, but I hoped if I taught that to my son from a young age, he wouldn't make the same grave mistakes I had.

"Feeling nostalgic, Malfoy? Bet you wish you could get on that train, too." I look round at the voice, and see Potter standing in front of me, his wife and daughter already heading away from the platform, back to the Muggle station. I ignore his statement, and instead give another stiff nod in greeting.

"Potter."

"Just wanted to say, I expect a better card this Christmas," he said. "That skin colour changing thing is getting old."

My lip curled slightly. "You're still opening them even though you know they're hexed?"

"Ah, well, I can't help it. Every year I'm curious as to whether you've done something different, and every year I'm disappointed. I expected more of you, Malfoy."

"I am sorry I do not live up to your lofty expectations, Potter." I replied. "I change the colour every year." I added, somewhat defensively.

"Oh, yeah. Hot pink last year, wasn't it? That one even changed my hair, which was a bit of a surprise, I admit. I turned my skin back easily, but my hair didn't go back to normal for nearly a week."

I smirked with satisfaction as I imagined Potter walking into the Auror office after Christmas with bright pink hair. But maybe it _was_ time for a change.

"Anyway, that was all. I'd better be off. I'll probably see you around the Ministry." He nodded to me once more before turning and rejoining his family.

I still didn't like Harry Potter. But I was proud of myself – I had at least managed to keep civil to him, like I had decided all those years ago.

Except for the Christmas cards, anyway.

**Christmas Day, the Potter's Residence**

Harry levitated yet another card up onto the mantelpiece. He was running out of space and still had quite a few left to open. He smirked slightly as his eyes fell upon a heavy parchment envelope, addressed in a familiar script.

"Well, well, Malfoy. What colour will it be this year?" he muttered to himself as he picked it up.

Ginny stood in the kitchen, supervising the knives as they peeled the parsnips for Christmas dinner. She jumped as she heard a loud yell from her husband.

"ARRRGARGHARGHARGH!"

Abandoning her cooking, she ran to the living room, brandishing her wand. "What? What is it, Harry?"

Harry was flapping his arms around his head, trying to beat something off, before raising his own wand and yelling a counter-curse. He looked up to meet Ginny's worried and confused face and started laughing.

"Looks like Malfoy took a leaf out of your book this year, Ginny," he said, grinning.

"What do you mean?"

Harry pointed to the envelope he had thrown on the floor during his struggle.

"Bat-Bogey Hex."

**End**


End file.
